


Where Do We Begin?

by lostunderthemountain



Series: Wolf of Durin's Line (For You Shall be My Lady Love) [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (but not kili), (but that might happen more after fili wakes up), Adorable Bardlings, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bearded Dwarf Women, Bombur talks!, F/M, Hilda is the awesome laketown lady, Injury Recovery, Lord Bard, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Serious Injuries, Sibling Incest, Wolf of Durin's Line, Women Being Awesome, alluded death, bamf!Kili, butchered writing about PTSD, fem!Kili, i saw this name on tumblr and i'm using it, the ur family are very talented
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostunderthemountain/pseuds/lostunderthemountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>oh where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?</em><br/>They’ve won the battle but the war’s only just begun. How can they rebuild a kingdom that housed a dragon for the last hundred years? Not to mention all the politics that comes with no longer being royals in exile…<br/>And how can you ask someone to marry you when they’re always so busy? Alright, that might be going a bit too fast, but sometimes there’s no choice!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> and yay! new fic!

_Part One_

 

Gasping, Kíli woke, disturbing dreams – memories – slipping away.

The tent was dim, only one candle present. Her entire torso ached and - reaching up with one hand - she could feel the soft bandages that covered it. Grunting, the girl swung her legs over the side of the divan bed and managed to sit up because of it. A sharp cry tore from Kíli’s lips as the wound on her knee suddenly ached - like the arrow was piercing it all over again.

She’d just finally managed to stand up and had begun to look for some clothes when a young girl came in to the tent.

“My lady!” She gasped, “Master Óin said you shouldn’t be moving!”

“Where’s my brother?” Kíli practically growled, “And my uncle?”

The girl hesitated

“The King and his heir are a few tents down…but my lady –”

Not bothering to hear whatever else she had to say, Kíli marched off, grabbing a fur on her way. Many turned to look at her as she passed. She probably looked a sight; wearing nothing but a wolf’s fur and a shift (she’d even forgotten her _boots_ ) with a maid running after her in shock. Dwalin was stood outside a tent - an axe in one hand - with Ori sat to the side, scribbling away.

“Dwalin! Ori!” Kíli smiled in the relief of seeing at least two of the Company alive and whole.

“Princess.” The old warrior greeted her with a solemn bow. Kíli raised an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored the formal address.

“Am I allowed in?” She asked, trying to look around him into the tent.

“Aye lass, but yeh might not like what yeh see…” Dwalin turned to the agog maid, “You; go and fetch Master Dori.” The maid practically fled with only the words ‘Yes Lord Dwalin’. The warrior turned to the side, holding the tent flap open.

One thing Kíli immediately noticed was that the tent was in much better condition than hers: it was much larger and had a fire pit in the middle. She would have taken in more, but she had seen the prone form of her brother on one of the beds and everything else just faded away.

“Fíli!” She breathed with relief, running to his side. Her brother was covered in bandages, the only part of him left unmarred was his face… _but he wasn’t waking_ , “Fee?”

“Gandalf’s magics saved him from the worst of his injures, now it is up to him to heal himself again, khahith.”

Thorin was sat up in the other bed, with Dain at his side. Kíli’s eyes widened and she stumbled to her feet.

“Umm - Your Grace.” She bowed awkwardly, her injuries protesting the lower she went.

“None of that Kíli – come here.” The King patted his bed. Kíli frowned, but did as she was told (for once). When she was sat, Thorin pulled her into a hug.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded, running a hand over her hair, “Forgive me for what I said at the beginning of the battle, and in Laketown. You - _both of you_ \- are more important than any gold.”

Kíli bit her lip and buried her face against his neck.

“I will forgive you Uncle, honestly.” She told him, “I just don’t think that I can right now.”

Thorin huffed, fluffing her hair up even more.

“I will be leaving you both be cousin.” Dáin rumbled, standing, “I think I’m in need of some food.”

Kíli watched as their cousin left, before rounding on Thorin.

“Where’s Bilbo?”

The King’s smile faded.

“Missing. The last time I saw…heard him was at Ravenhill…I will not forgive myself if he cannot be found.”

Kíli blinked at her uncle.

“You regret what you did?”

Thorin’s lips quirked upwards in a semblance of a smile.

“With all my heart…I don’t know what…”

Kíli covered her uncle’s hand with her own and tried to smile, remembering what her mother did when any of them were upset.

“Bilbo will come back Uncle, he always does…and I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

Thorin smiled again as he pulled her into another hug, running a hand over her hair.

“I hope that your brother can do the same.”

Kíli stiffened in her uncle’s arms, remembering that her brother currently wasn’t able to hear Thorin’s apology for himself.

“What happened him?” She asked softly. Thorin sighed, grief clouding his face once more.

“Several broken ribs and a few cracked ones, a shallow puncture in his lung to according to Gandalf – but it’s been healed now.” Thorin quickly reassured his niece, who’d gasped in horror, “Azog’s claw left some deep scaring, but the elves managed to stop any infection.” The king scowled at the thought of elves saving his heir and nephew, but it wasn’t like he could have done anything to stop it.

Kíli pursed her lips in annoyance to her uncle’s attitude.

“We should give them something – for saving the _heir to the throne’s life_ , even if you’d care about nothing else…and then there’s Bard-”

Thorin snorted.

“What about him? Useless, traitorous piece of-”

“Don’t you dare start calling people traitors _Your Grace_ , not after what you’ve done.” Kíli snarled suddenly, pulling away from him, “Not after you fell into the sickness despite claiming you were above it! Not after you threw Bilbo away like he was _nothing_! Not after you assume Fíli of being worthless when he’ll be as good as king as any! You don’t get to judge _anyone_ after what you’ve done.”

“The sickness-”

“Was an additional factor but you can’t use that as an excuse – especially to Fíli.” Kíli’s voice broke here, “He thinks whatever you said is _true_ Uncle. He won’t say it but he does. Do you want Fíli to take the throne thinking that he’s not worthy of it?”

Thorin sought for words to say, but they all died on his lips.

“Where is she?” Dori’s irritated cry broke through the tense moment between uncle and niece. The tent flaps were pushed to the side as the elder dwarf swept in, trailing several maids.

“Dori-”

“At least you had the sense to cover yourself, even if you couldn’t wait for proper clothes.”

Kíli suddenly remembered that she was only wearing a (almost see-through) shift, and felt very exposed.

“Clean your feet first.” The weaver’s son told her, gesturing for one of the maids to place an iron bowl by the princess’ feet, but she was batted away by Kíli before she could attempt to wash them.

“What’s all this for?” She asked, whining softly at the heat of the water. She heard Dori huff and no doubt a glower was being directed at her uncle.

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you,” here Thorin glared back at their cousin, “But considering Fíli is…unavailable and I am to be bedridden until Óin decides that I’m fully healed, and knowing him that will take far longer than necessary. Glóin is leading the search for Bilbo, Balin already of his hands full organising the miner’s arrival and Dwalin has little patience for politicians. Dáin doesn’t want the world to think that he desires to be king so…”

“So I am to be regent in your place.” Kíli finished bitterly, “Again.”

Dori rolled his eyes at them both, and threw a pair of stockings at the princess.

“Dry your feet and put those on,” He instructed, “then come here.”

Kíli quickly did as she was told, not wanting to annoy Dori any further. The maids swarmed around the pair, constantly beating Kíli to tying the laces for her skirts and corset, pulling them tight but being mindful of her ribs. A smooth, silken underdress covered the white skirts and then Dori helped pull the thick dark blue overdress over Kíli’s shoulders.

“It was made for Queen Sigriđr,” Dori told her as one of the maids hurriedly tied the back of the overdress, “my mother once said – but it suits you just rightly as well.”

Kíli ran her hands over the smooth material, unconsciously comparing it to the few dresses she had back home…in Ered Luin. The dark blue fabric was split at her waist to reveal the silver colour of the underdress. On one of the sleeves ( _bell sleeves darling_ her mother’s voice drifted through her mind) there was the sigil of Durin’s Line: seven stars over a crowned anvil.

“Here.” Dori handed her a pair of brown leather boots.

“The lords you will be dealing with are not like the ones back in Ered Luin,” Thorin told her as she laced them up, “They do not know how our people have suffered in exile, as they managed to get their before the rest of us.”

Kíli snorted, sitting up straight again and beginning to braid her hair.

“So don’t expect them to be very helpful?” She asked tersely, flinging the thick braid backwards so it hung in between her shoulder blades.

“Exactly.” The king smiled at her, “You’ll do just fine Kíli. You look like a proper member of Durin’s Line…but there is one more thing. Dori, get it out.”

The merchant huffed, but hurriedly reached into a leather satchel one of maids was carrying and pulled out a mass of white fur.

“You slayed the Defiler’s mount, it’s only fair that you get something to show for it.” Thorin explained as Kíli wrapped the fur around her shoulders, giggling to herself when she found the armholes.

Kíli hugged herself, looking over at Fíli, who hadn’t woken the entire time.

“I’ll make you proud…”She said, although she wasn’t too sure who she was talking to.

Deaf to any response, the princess turned around and walked back out of the tent, fingers curling into the fur for comfort.

 

_End of Part One_


	2. Part Two

_Part Two_

 

As the princess made her way through the camp, everybody at least glanced at her. Dwarfs from the Iron Hills had heard of the ‘wildling’ daughter of Princess Dís from their kin in the Blue Mountains, and as such were shocked (and in some cases amused) to see her making her way to the tents were the lords were bickering loudly.

“Lass! Milady Kíli!” Dáin stomped after, his shout jerking the onlookers out of their trance and made them focus on what they had been doing.

“Dáin,” the girl smiled pleasantly, “I expected you to be in the food tent…”

“Ah – Thorin sent one of the maids to fetch me, suggested that you might need some _help_ in dealing with tha’ lot.” The dwarf lord shrugged, “Althoug’ between you and me they’re almost as bad as the blasted dragon.”

Dáin saw Kíli push down the urge to snicker as he pulled the tent flap to the side for her to enter. The noise inside immediately died down.

“Who is this?” One of the lords asked brusquely, gesturing to Kíli as if she was little more than a brush.

“Kíli, daughter of Dís,” Dáin snarled, “Princess of Erebor and she who slayed the White Warg. I would _thank you,_ Lord Narvi, to be a bit more respectful.”

Narvi – Kíli made a note of his name – snorted whilst one of the lords (who much older) spoke up,

“My lady, I highly doubt that this is of any concern of yours – we can manage just fine.”

“On the contrary my lord,” Kíli inclined her head respectfully, “my uncle, King Thorin, has named me his regent until he is able to meet with you himself. So this is, indeed, my concern.”

The princess smiled at them all, but only Dáin saw the ice to it.

  

* * *

 

 

Glóin sighed heavily as he and Nori swept the entirety of Ravenhill _again._

“What if he’s gone to the elves?” He asked loudly, “After all, Thorin _did_ banish him, even if it was unofficial.” Real banishments took a lot more paperwork. Nori snorted.

“He knows bet’er than tha’,” the thief objected, “’sides, if your One’s injured ye go straight to them don’ ya?”

“ _Dwarves_ do – yes,” Glóin rolled his eyes, “but Bilbo’s a _hobbit_ , they might not get that urge like we do.”

Nori made an unconvinced noise, not looking up from the ground.

“…These are hobbit tracks…”He murmured softly, stopping and turning to the left.

“Whadda ya mean?” Glóin frowned at him – the ground all looked the same to him.

“He went this way…” Nori pointed, walking forward almost determinedly, “Bilbo? Bilbo!”

Glóin supposed that they looked half mad – shouting out for someone who couldn’t be found.

“Nori? Glóin? What’s wrong?”

That still didn’t stop the warrior jumping out of his skin when the hobbit appeared behind them.

“Bilbo!” Nori surprised them both as he tackled the hobbit in a hug, “Bo’ll be glad that you’re alright.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened.

“Everyone’s still alive – o’ course – but we were gettin’ concerned when you weren’t showing up. ‘Specially Thorin.” The thief continued blithely, “Speakin’ of, we best be gettin’ you to him.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Bilbo flinched away from them and began babbling, most of his speech unintelligible but Glóin managed to catch something;

“He’s not going to hurt you lad…not now.” The warrior tried to soothe the hobbit, reaching out to pat Bilbo’s shoulder but instead the hobbit jumped backwards.

“P-Please just t-take me to the camp and l-let me see Óin first…then maybe I’ll see T-Thorin.”

Glóin and Nori exchanged a look briefly, before the elder dwarf sighed heavily and began to lead Bilbo back towards the camp and the main healing tent, delivering to his brother.

 

**_-:-_ **

 

“He refuses to see me?” Thorin’s voice was hollow, eyes fixed determinedly on his bedding.

“Only fer now.” Nori shrugged, rocking on his heels, “You have to understand that the last time you two were together you threatened to…well…” The thief shifted uncomfortably, “Don’t give up hope though-”

The king snorted,

“Why should I not? He is right to leave me! You would not understand-”

“Oi!” Nori snarled, hands twitching, “I _‘ave_ a One as well, remember? And he accepts me despite everything I’ve done.” Angry, Nori stomped to the tent flap.

“I’ve _killed_ for Bofur, Thorin, could you ever do the same for Bilbo?”

 

* * *

 

“…the Lord Dáin has been kind enough to bring enough servants to organise the royal chambers as well as a few miners to begin reconstruction and supplies to ensure survival through the winter,” Narvi growled, “And you refuse to give him payment?”

“The Lord Dáin has also _just said_ that no payment is needed!” Kíli replied tersely, “It is what family _do_ for each other Lord Narvi, surely you can understand that?”

“O’ course he does,” Dáin growled, “We should move on to other subjects, my lady Kíli. Tell me, how are you going to deal with your new neighbours?”

Kíli smiled at her cousin briefly, the corner of her mouth turning up when she heard Narvi huff at his dismissal.

“I will treat personally with the new Lord of Dale, Erebor needs a strong relationship with Dale and we owe Bard the Dragonslayer wereguild as it is.”

Many of the lords stiffened at the idea of _owing_ a Man.

“What about the Elven King?” one of them asked, “He has been asking to see you, speaking of payment.”

Now Kíli’s jaw clenched and she said coolly:

“Send a message to _King_ Thranduil. Tell him that he can return what _he_ took from us before he can utter words such as _payment_.”

Dáin raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, prompting one of scribes to write the note before dismissing the lords.

“Lass,” the dwarf lord began as the lass slumped down into the chair, “Did anything…happen, between you and the elf?”

Kíli twisted the fabric of her dress.

“It’s not what he did more what he said.” She admitted quietly, “I can handle him, cousin. I did before and I will again.”

“Aye, but I’ll be there regardless.” Dáin told her stubbornly, “I do not trust him alone amongst my kin, not if he means to do us harm.”

The princess smiled softly, whispering a ‘thank you’.

 

_End of Part Two_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Dáin (Billy Conolly only played a slightly minor part in that decision). I especially like Dáin being supportive of the Line of Thror being on the throne…his _son_ might be less so.
> 
> And the thilbo isn't in danger - Bilbo's just unsure about Thorin's mental state, and after being hung over a battlement it's no wonder he's a bit afraid…but it's only temporary.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli and Óin talk spiritual and temporal, Kíli talks to Bard and fluff of the thilbo variety happens (and Fíli is mentioned - thrice!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am - updating at college, I think God will forgive me...

_Part Three_

 

Once Kíli had finished dealing with the lords, she found Dori and asked him if there was anything _simpler_ that she could wear for when to see Bard that afternoon. Although Dori had seemed put out that she asking, he understood that the new Lord wouldn’t take kindly to seeing someone who had recently been considered an enemy practically swan around in such fine clothing as the dwarves had at their disposal. It would still have to have the Durin sigil on it – but Kíli could only hope it would be less noticeable than the one she currently wearing was.

Anyway, once Dori had been convinced, the princess had made her way to the healing tent to speak with Óin, in an attempt to find out more about what was happening with her brother.

“I felt him die.” Kíli now insisted as the healer cleaned blood off his hands. Not Fíli’s – thankfully – but another warrior’s, “There was so much blood Óin, there’s no way he could have survived losing that amount. I h-heard his heartbeat fade…”

That particular memory made it too painful to carry on and the princess was reduced to fiddling with the rolls of fresh bandages.

“Sometimes when the body loses enough blood the heart slows down to compensate,” Óin told her, slapping her hand away from the pile, “And with the pressure you were putting on the wound that amount was reduced significantly. What you were probably hearin’ was his spiritual heart – the beat of _that_ is what is generally described as the bond between Ones.”

Kíli huffed, her worry for her brother turning into exasperation over their predicament.

“Does _everyone_ know about that?” She exclaimed, “I swear I’ve had more pitying glances in the last year than I’ve had all my life!”

“Your uncle does, obviously, as did yer lady mother. Glóin and I know because we were both there when you were _named_ by yer brother. Dwalin and Balin know because of the political complications an eventual union will doubtlessly create. Dáin will know soon if he spends enough time around the pair of yeh. Bifur and his cousins know because Dís told them, so doubtless _Nori_ knows because Bofur will have told him.”

“So only Dori and Ori remain unaware.” Kíli groused, “Along with the rest of the people that is…”

“It won’t be so bad lass.” Óin reassured her, “It’s happened before in our line and has happened throughout the kingdom of Erebor countless times. And those pesky lords should be pleased that the heir to the throne has his One by his side already, instead of griping over our apparent lack of integrity when they think we can’t hear…”

Kíli – her fears (temporal and spiritual) allayed for now – chuckled as Óin moved to complaining about the amount of ‘patients’ he’d been receiving, whinging about minor or unreal maladies, secretly glad that at least one thing hadn’t changed.

 

* * *

 

Whilst Kíli had been distracted by the Company’s healer, Bilbo Baggins undertook another quest. It wasn’t really that much unlike his first, only instead of having to steal from a dragon – he just had to get past Dwalin…which was more difficult than it would appear.

Dwalin was – by hobbitish first impressions – a huge lumbering brute. But Bilbo had seen how caring he was with Fíli and Kíli, as well as how he’d managed to catch _Nori_ of all people sneaking around in the dark when the rest of them were unaware. So he would obviously notice the rippling of a tent flap in broad daylight, even if Bilbo was wearing his ring…

Just as he’d puzzled every idea to exhaustion (the closest to a successful one he’d gotten was cutting a new entrance into the tent, but Dwalin would probably hear the sound of ripping fabric and it would become impractical afterwards, considering there would be less protection from the weather for Thorin) an opportunity arose as a maid brought a food tray to the tent, saying it was for the king. As Dwalin pushed the flap to the side to allow her entrance, Bilbo rocketed forward and slide into the tent just after the maid, hopefully leaving Dwalin none the wiser.

“Your Grace? I’ve brought you some food?” The maid began hesitantly. Thorin didn’t look up from the bedding he seemed intent on destroying, making the maid wrinkle her very dwarven noise in annoyance and Bilbo want to sigh, but he couldn’t – not without risking her getting into trouble.

“I’ll leave it on the table then Your Grace, should you change your mind.” And she did just that, “Or maybe the Prince Fíli will wake up and feel peckish.”

Bilbo snapped his head up and felt as though he’d suffered another blow to the head when he saw aforementioned blonde lying there, almost lifeless on the bed opposite his uncle. The lack of response made the maid wrinkle her nose again and put a bit more force into her steps as she left, but not enough to make others say that she had been stomping out of the king’s tent. Bilbo waited a couple of moments before pulling his ring off and snapping:

“For the love of Yvanna, Thorin Oakenshield, if this is how you plan to act nowadays then I doubt you will make a very good king!”

He ranted on for a good minute – probably revealing to Dwalin that he was in here after all – before he felt a slight tug at the back of his borrowed tunic.

Turning around, he was almost shocked to see unshed tears in the king’s eyes, as well as the awestruck expression.

“Bilbo…” Thorin breathed, “You’re _here_.”

“Of…of course I’m here where else would I be?” the hobbit scowled at him (though it wasn’t as impressive as the dwarf’s could be). Thorin slowly pulled him closer, as if he was a skittish colt, the awestruck look still on his face.

“I thought you would not wish to be near me anymore,” He mumbled, burying his face against Bilbo’s stomach the moment he was close enough, “Nori said as much, that you were terrified of me.”

Bilbo let a hand smooth down Thorin’s hair lovingly, weighing his options carefully.

“I wasn’t going to come to you so soon,” He admitted, running a hand over the dwarf’s hair again when he felt Thorin tense up again, “but Óin told me, how you’d being talking in your sleep, asking – _begging_ me for my forgiveness, begging me to allow you to earn it.”

“And?” Thorin asked, voice muffled, but he was still tense, as if he was expecting Bilbo to deny him, to pull away and leave him forever.

“And I will let you – but!” He held a finger up as Thorin squeezed him tight, “I don’t want you to be slavish, seeking to appease every single hurt you have ever done to me – I’ve forgiven most of them anyway.”

Thorin paused, clearly warring with what Bilbo wanted and what his pride insisted on, before nodding.

“Very well.”

Bilbo tangled his fingers in the unruly mane once more, pressing his lips to the crown of the dwarf’s head in contentment.

 

* * *

  
“Remind me why you’re both coming with me?” Kíli asked Bofur and Nori wryly. She was now wearing a pale blue and white dress made out of what she assumed to be cotton. Dori had huffed and muttered about how it wasn’t fit for a princess, but the princess in question felt much more comfortable in this than in any royal silks.

“Weell, the Lord Dáin seemed to be labouring under the impression that you need protection, so Nori an’ I volunteered, seeing as you’d no doubt be irritated be an entire troop of guards.” Bofur grinned, earning a snort from both the lady in question and his One, who was pulling the cart of blankets – a gift for the people of Dale. In this sense she was lucky Bofur and Nori had offered their service, Kíli realised, as Dáin’s soldiers would see it as beneath them to hand blankets out, and none of them had the same friendly demeanor as Bofur did (and Nori could have, on certain occasions).

“ ** _You know me so well Bofur._** ” She muttered in Khuzdul as they entered the encampment of Men, their stature and outfits catching more and more attention the further into the city they went. Eventually Kíli turned to them both and gave them instructions to pass as many blankets out as possible, focusing on young children, the sick and the elderly in particular before she made her way into the highest point of the city – which faced Erebor – and there she found a tent which had an old, slightly chard, flag of Dale pinned to the side and the flaps were open.

Ducking her head in, Kíli smiled as she saw Sigrid, Bain and Tilda all curled up on the divan-like chair, sound asleep.

“They’ll be out of it for a few hours more,” A gruff voice from the corner of the tent made her jump, “They’ve been running all sorts of errands for me since after the battle. Percy and Hilda had to march them back here personally before they took on their tasks, or they’d never have slept.”

Bard was in a make shift bed, the blankets all but pulled up to his chin. Kíli bowed slightly to him.

“It makes my heart feel lighter to know that you all survived and are well.” She told him, true meaning behind her words. Bard nodded his head in understanding, his lips quirking upwards. His mannerisms were remarkably like Thorin’s – it must come with being a born ruler, Kíli theorised.

“I doubt you’ve only come all the way to Dale _just_ to check on me and my family.” The man said, an eyebrow raised.

“Indeed, I am here to speak to the _Lord_ Bard.” Kíli admitted loudly, hoping she would be heard by any others outside the tent. The man now sighed.

“You and nearly every other person who’s come into this tent,” Bard looked far too worn, “But what I can do for a Princess of Erebor I do not know.”

Kíli twisted her fingers together. She’d practiced what she’d wanted to say on the way, but now she was here she wasn’t so sure.

“When I was younger I was always taught that before Smaug the Lords of Dale and the Kings of Erebor had a great friendship and the two kingdoms traded frequently, even in the deepest of winters.” She began, “And now, after Smaug, it is the wish of the current King of Erebor - and no doubt the future King’s as well – that that friendship and trade be reignited and restored, despite all that has past.”

Bard regarded her cooly, like Thranduil had in the Mirkwood…except Bard’s eyes still seemed much warmer than those of the Elvenking’s.

“Does the current King of Erebor know that that is his wish?” He asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards again.

“He will do, eventually.” Kíli replied innocently, “He’ll be more than happy to take the credit for it anyway.”

The man laughed, but it quickly descended into a coughing fit, much to Kíli’s alarm.

“Got hit by a mace…hammer thing in the battle,” He explained, rubbing his bandaged chest, “I don’t think I’d be here, talking to you now if it weren’t for one of King Thranduil’s healers.”

“The Elvenking has supplied you with some of his own healers?” the princess blurted out in surprise.

“Not quite, three of them demanded they be allowed to stay – they couldn’t just leave so many injured to any fate one of them told me.” Bard sighed, “But that’s hardly important right now – shouldn’t we be talking about trade or something?”

Kíli smiled briefly, before frowning in thought.

“I’m sure my uncle will wish to talk about that with you himself, instead of leaving it to me. I am merely here to form the base layer – which is generally formed by me offering you something and you accepting it and giving your word you’ll be open to negotiations again.”

“What is this offer then?”

Kíli twisted her fingers again, rethinking over the specifics of her offer.

“My cousin, the Lord Dáin, has agreed to supply the citizens of Dale with stone and a few dwarven masons to assist with the rebuilding of the city. Erebor itself can give blankets and warm materials to make clothes – and we owe you wereguild for slaying the dragon so you will have the promised gold. We also have copies of several of the books that were in Lord Girion’s private library – they were put there as a contingency plan in case the originals were stolen – that Lord Balin says explains the affairs of state to Dale’s future lords…And if I can convince Lord Elrond – an elven lord from the West and admittedly one of the greatest healers in Middle Earth (according to our own healer) – to journey to Dale with any assistance he can bring would you be open to talking to us again.”

“How many would ‘a few’ be?” Bard asked – though Kíli swore she could hear the agreement in his voice.

“More than three I assure you.” Especially if she told Dáin what Thranduil had done.

“Then I accept those terms.” The man held out his hand, which Kíli quickly took, “Even if you don’t manage to convince the Lord Elrond, the rest is more than adequate my lady.”

The princess beamed at him, curtsying in a theatrical way making him laugh again.

“Your brother is a very lucky man, with one as witty and beautiful as you to be his.” His smile dropped as Kíli froze, “Have I gone too far? It’s only because I recognised how he looked at you when you were wounded, it was like how my face looked when I married my late wife – apparently.”

Kíli cheeks pinked at the thought of Fíli looking at her with the cherishment like… _Glóin_ looked at Surthi. But the man’s first statement kept swirling around her head as she bid him farewell, assuring him he’d caused no offense.

…She’d never been called _beautiful_ before…

 

_End of Part Three_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a question: does Bilbo's response sound realistic?  
> Secondly: Bard is a bit weirded out by the *whispers* _incest_ \- but he's realised that it's not really his place to interfere.  
>  Thirdly: Kíli is a bit unsure of her looks, because for dwarves she's not really attractive ~~because the Durin ladies don't have beards due to my crack (not _real_ crack) induced headcanon.~~ , so being called beautiful by ANYONE is a bit of a shock to her.  
> Please leave comments or kudos!


	4. Part Four

_Part Four_

 

Two months past. Dáin’s stonemasons had descended on Dale with a sense of _vigour_ , clearly eager to rebuild such an old city. The Lord’s Halls were the first to be complete and the sick, young and injured had been moved into the large feast hall on Bard’s orders, stating it was easier to keep them in the same place than have their few healers run around the city like headless chickens. The stonemasons also readily enlisted some of the Men to help them rebuild. It seemed that when it came to building dwarves were more willing to share their secrets. Progress, however, had slowed due to the heavy snows, which had in turn slowed anyone travelling between Erebor and the Iron Hills.

Meanwhile, the dwarves had also begun to move back into Erebor. Well, in part. The injured had been moved into the (newly cleaned) Halls of Healing and the army of maids Dáin had sent for after the battle were tackling the years of dust in the homes.

At any rate, Kíli had more important things to worry about at the minute. Whilst Thorin had been moved immediately to the King’s rooms (as the King was never treated in the Halls of Healing, for some reason Kíli couldn’t remember) Fíli was to be moved to the Halls so Óin could keep a close eye one him. The prince had yet to wake up, though his wound was healing well. The healers (dwarf and elven) agreed that he would simply wake up when he was ready. _But Fíli could sleep for **ages** if you let him_ , the child in Kíli had wanted to insist, but she had had to push it down when the arrangement to take Fíli into Erebor on a cart and then a stretcher to the Halls was decided.

Kíli had sat leaning against the side of the cart, Fíli’s head resting in her lap and her hand smoothing over his hair. His beard was getting a bit ratty, but nothing could be done about that until he woke up, after all what if he wanted to grow it out now that Erebor was reclaimed? Kíli noticed that her brother looked less like their uncle when he was asleep, instead he leaned more to the sons of Fundin and the only portrait they’d ever seen of their Uncle Frerin.

The soldiers had been careful as they had carried the blond to the Halls of Healing and into Óin’s care, after all he _was_ the heir to the throne. The elder dwarf had shooed the princess away as she began fussing over her brother once more, flitting around the infirmary and generally cluttering up the place.

Now she was sat in the main room of the royal quarters with her uncle and Bilbo, glaring holes into Gandalf’s hat.

“Why did you leave us?” Thorin asked harshly, “Tell me, Tharkun, why did you leave us at the brink of the Mirkwood and later appear at the side of _Thranduil_ , of all the creatures of Middle Earth?”

“I’ll have you know I was speaking to Thranduil on your behalf!” The wizard huffed, “It is hardly my fault the pair of you both have too much pride – thank you Bilbo.” The bluster halted thanks to the hobbit’s timely offer for more pipe weed, “But it is lucky that I did leave you Thorin, for dark things have been happening in Dol Guldur.”

“What dark things?” Kíli asked, leaning forward. Gandalf sighed and turned towards her.

“You have heard of Sauron haven’t you? Whether in your lessons or in stories to make you behave as a child…”

“He was a malevolent force, he nearly conquered the world…but he was destroyed nearly an Age ago!” Kíli threw her hands up for emphasis, flopping back against her seat.

“His mortal form was destroyed, yes, but part of him lived on. Sauron is now a spectre, which I found in Dol Guldor…”

“Is he still there?” Thorin asked lightly.

“I doubt it – the Lady Galadriel and the White Council would have dealt with him…” Gandalf looked at them all severely, “Azog the Defiler was no ordinary mercenary. He was under the command of Sauron and that army you faced is only the beginning.”

“Yet the damage we did will no doubt slow his progress, especially now the Defiler is dead,” Bilbo pointed out, “We will have time to fortify Erebor against another invasion – won’t we?”

Gandalf looked at Bilbo, almost shocked, before giving an affirmative:

“Sauron will no doubt wait as long as he has to before beginning another attack on Middle Earth, how long that time is – however – is up to him.” The wizard sighed deeply.

Kíli could tell that Gandalf had more to say (travelling with someone for almost a year does that) but clearly felt uncomfortable saying it in front of her, so she excused herself, citing that she had a meeting with Bofur and Bombur in the treasury.

 

**_-:-_ **

 

The treasury made Kíli feel _ill_ , there was no other way to describe it. She could never walk in a straight line for long, the air was so stagnant it made bile rise in her throat and it felt like the gold was tugging at the edges of her subconscious, trying to drag her away from her purpose.

Luckily, Bofur and Bombur were colluded in the counting room, just above the treasury, where the air wasn’t as stagnant and the gold mostly hidden from view.

“It sickens me that we have to put a price on children’s lives,” Bombur muttered, inking figures onto the page, “They are all so precious – I’d give a treasury of gold to the person who saved mine, or at least avenged them.”

“Unfortunately we only have _one_ treasury Bombur, so a price must be made.” Kíli sighed, “How much is there in there?”

“‘Undreds of thousands, if not millions,” Bofur marvelled, “plenty for the Company to share, seeing as the terms of agreement have been changed so we all have unlimited access to the treasury-” Thorin had now changed the term after the Battle, feeling it a better way to reward the Company who followed him into battle when he’d given them every reason not to, “-after the wereguild has been paid, if Bom can decide a sum.”

“It’s not easy! I have fifty gold coins for each solider and hundred for each ‘dam he avenged – but nobody has ever had to decide for children before and then there’s the Princess Fastriðr to consider…” Bombur faltered slightly, “I’m sorry Kíli.”

“Its fine,” Kíli told him immediately, patting his shoulder, “I never knew her anyway.”

Fastriðr – Fíli and Kíli’s grandmother – had died during Smaug’s attack and nobody willingly brought her name up in conversation around the current Durin King and his sister.

“Put a hundred for each child and one thousand for my grandmother,” She told him eventually, “That’s the fairest I can think of, the lords don’t agree with this as it is.”

“The lords are idiots.” Bofur grunted, startling a laugh out of the princess and his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> _…I’ve got this”_
> 
> _“Go!”_
> 
> _“ **Here ends your filthy bloodline!** ”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“RUN!_ _  
> _
> 
>                                                                                              _A blood stained lion falling to the ground._

 

Kíli fell out of the bed. She gasped, clutching at her throat, eyes wide and unseeing.

_That didn’t happen_. It _didn’t_ , Kíli insisted to herself – curling up into a ball. Fíli was _alive_. He was safe in the Halls of Healing with Óin looking after him.

Suddenly, however, the old reassurance (it had been two weeks since Fíli had been moved to the halls, and two weeks since Kíli had begun having nightmares that changed each night, no matter how long she stayed up for) didn’t seem to have the same effect.

Without much fanfare, the princess slipped on her new leather soft-soled shoes and her fur wrap before leaving the royal quarters and walking through the eerily quiet hallways until she reached the infirmary. She wasn’t afraid of being thought lost – Nori was no doubt watching in the shadows.

Kíli slipped through the doorway and cautiously made her way to the secluded corner where Fíli was being kept – if Óin caught it’d all be for nought. The woman sat down on the bed next to him, smoothing his hair down and resting her hand over his heart.

“Wake up Fee…” She whispered, almost pleading.

Quickly, before sense could convince her otherwise, she pulled her feet up onto the bed and curled up against her sleeping brother, tucking her head against his shoulder and leaving her hand on his chest.

 

_End of Part Four_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see the Ur family as more of a jack-of-all-trades sort of family - as in that they are very talented people.
> 
> Admittedly this is more of a filler than an _actual chapter_ , but I have exams coming up and I didn't want to leave you hanging until… _JUNE_ at the latest.
> 
> Please leave a review! (or kudos :D)


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